NUM
Two Taps of the thin skin.
Flames dance under cold sins, sending whispers through chilled wind to linger echoes through out your where abouts.
"tap, tap" penetrate inner scarred flesh
With nouns and verbs molded off the tongue into sharp matter. Sharper then any needle, leeking discriminating slanders, racial slurs, and "You'll never do it." Now you dont feel anymore!
Poetry Slam:
Guide that inspired this poem: